Page 27 of Dirty Chef
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining.” He lifted his brows as his eyes took me in again. “Is flash photography allowed?”
I spluttered and slapped my hands to my face.
Kill me.
He laughed.
I slumped down in my seat and winced at the cold. The stools were metal, and had I mentioned my bottoms were short?
Wine. I need wine.
I poured a big glass of a Tempranillo I knew I liked, and I guzzled half of it like a champ.
“Too fucking cute,” Adam said, taking a seat next to me. “Upsetting to anyone who appreciates good wine, but cute.”
“I appreciate good wine and a buzz,” I replied and wiped my mouth. So sexy. “Okay, work. Tell me what we’re eating. Don’t miss a single ingredient.”
I took another few pictures.
He humored me. Somewhat. The mirth remained in his eyes, but he took pity on me and slid a plate my way. “All right. The main course. Beer battered fries, as you can see. Parmesan and roasted garlic on top.” And it looked delicious. “The bread is brioche with thyme, sesame, and butter.”
I nodded and opened my notebook to write it all down.
A piece of brisket was about to fall off the bun, so I pinched it between my fingers and stuck it in my mouth. And holy mother of briskets, the meat melted in my mouth, and I couldn’t stop the moan. The sticky-sweet barbecue sauce was perfect too. Christ, so tender. With the crispy burnt ends—I was speechless again.
While I did my best to describe the sensations for my Instagram post, Adam poured himself a big glass of wine and followed my lead, chugging half the glass. Then he continued telling me what he’d made. On top of the meat were two slices of mild Brie. After that, a sweet and spicy mix of caramelized onion and cloudberry chutney. Crisp romaine lettuce, grilled tomatoes, and a Carolina Reaper chili and chive aioli.
“We’re going to be fully booked that entire week,” I said.
He offered a ghost of a smile and fidgeted with the stem of his wineglass. “You seem confident.”
“In your work? Yes. We’ve dined at Michelin restaurants together, and you mop the floor with them. Your following grows every day.”
“Our following,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”
I smiled and raised my glass, beyond ready to dig in. “To Coho’s bright future.”
“To us.” He clinked his glass with mine, and I swallowed the butterflies that threatened to escape.
To us.
When my phone dinged with a message, I apologized and was about to turn off the sound, but then I saw the preview. It was from Isla, and there was a picture attached. I knew that ball cap. I couldn’t resist. As Adam tucked in to his sandwich, I opened the message and gasped at the photo.
“Did you go see the twins today?” I asked, surprised.
It was a picture of Adam holding the little girl. He was sitting on their couch, one leg pulled up casually, though I could tell he wasn’t super comfortable. Still, the soft smile on his lips…
“Briefly,” Adam said. “Jack called me over. Mom wouldn’t leave.”
I giggled.
“Soon as Isla yawns, Mom’s there fussing,” he chuckled. “She calls all hours of the day. Jack had to put his foot down. He’s told her now that she has to text him before—and he’ll let her know if it’s okay to call. Mom got upset, but Christ. They haven’t been home from the hospital a week yet.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine. “Anyway. When Isla couldn’t relax ’cause Mom was all over the place, Jack asked if I could assist.”
I could understand Jack not wanting to break the bad news to their mother twice in a short period of time.
“Well, you and the bambina look adorable together.” I showed him the photo. “I’m gonna frame it.”
He flashed a crooked smile and took a bite of his sandwich.
How he could eat that thing without utensils, I’d never understand. I’d spill everywhere.
After firing off a quick response to Isla, thanking her for the photo, it was finally time to eat. And I couldn’t really form any words for a long time. The food was fucking divine. The sweetness of the barbecue and cloudberry chutney flowed through my senses, followed by little spikes of the very hot chili.
“That good, huh?” Adam grinned.
“No words,” I said around a mouthful.
I’d died and gone to heaven. The grilled tomato was a genius move, and the Brie was mild enough that it didn’t take away the flavor from everything else, while still being cheesy goodness.
“This is better than sex,” I whispered and stuck another forkful into my mouth.
Adam coughed.
“Spicy?” I guessed.
“Or something.” He went for a beer next. “You wanna try?”
I shook my head. Beer wasn’t my thing. On a summer night, I could enjoy lighter types, but he’d brought out dark lagers for this meal.
